


Another Day

by sicktodeathoflogic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicktodeathoflogic/pseuds/sicktodeathoflogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which all the lovely people from The 100 happen to live in the same apartment building. Prompts taken from an interesting Tumblr post I saw from sam-sour-wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning People

**Author's Note:**

> Raven x Wick's prompt: "the guy below me has a really loud alarm clock that always wakes me up at the ass crack of dawn AU"

It started as a distant sound, far from her subconscious and her dreams. Of course, Raven was dreaming about Finn. Again. Stupid Finn making her believe that they’d be together forever. Well, maybe that part wasn’t his fault. But him cheating on her after being together for over five years was, and with the girl upstairs, no less. Not that Clarke knew; she made that quite clear when Raven marched to her door after discovering what had been happening, expecting to knock her teeth in, only to find the girl holding out her phone to read Finn’s misleading messages.

He had told Clarke that she was his sister.

Perhaps she should classify these types of dreams – the ones where Finn professes his love to her, only to have Clarke materialize in her place – as nightmares. It certainly didn’t help that a faint sound of sirens interrupted her thoughts. The more she recognized it as an alien sound in her dream, the louder it became, until finally her eyes opened slightly to reveal the familiar darkness of Raven’s room. What time was it? Raven groaned and turned to the alarm clock next to her bed. 4:30AM. She could hear it now: the same damn siren wailing at her from the room below. Every weekday for the past two weeks had been like this, but this time Raven had had enough. Her roommate, Octavia, never let it affect her sleep, but then she could sleep through a nuclear war if she had enough determination. Raven, on the other hand, was a light sleeper and the worst kind of morning person – the type to rise quickly and be alert only to be pissed at the whole world that they were woken up.

That adrenaline is what persuaded Raven to put on a robe and a pair of slippers and practically gallop down a level of stairs. Ironically, the alarm went silent just as she reached the culprit’s door, but she was seething too much to turn back now. She pounded on the door in short bursts, impatiently shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m coming! Jesus Christ,” a man called after Raven’s fifth pounding. Raven smirked, glad that he got a small taste of his own medicine. When the door opened, Raven’s eyes threatened to pop out of her head. The man before her was disheveled, with his button-down shirt un-tucked and open down the front revealing a well-toned figure, and one shoe held in the hand that leaned against the doorframe (the other shoe presumably on his foot). His dirty blonde hair was tussled from what Raven assumed was sleep, and he rubbed his eyes warily before looking down at her with any focus. “Yes?”

Raven dismissed her thoughts on how attractive one of her neighbors looked at such an obscene hour of the morning, and quickly remembered why she had come down. “Do you know what time it is?"

The man furrowed his brow, but obligingly took his phone out of his pants pocket. “Four-forty in the morning.”

“Exactly,” Raven said curtly, crossing her arms. “I’m assuming you have to be somewhere this early, or do you like waking up half the building for the fun of it?”

“Um, yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand and blatantly ignoring her question. “I just got a job across town I need to leave early for. College doesn’t pay for itself,” he added with a laugh.

Raven glared at him. How could he possibly think that this was funny? “Well, I live above you,” she informed him, pointing at the ceiling like he needed help remembering where that was, “and your alarm is so loud that it’s been waking me up. Could you do something about it? Please.” Raven usually didn’t say please to people who were pissing her off, but she figured that she should try and not make every resident of ARK Apartments hate her.

The man was quiet for a minute. “You want me to change my alarm.”

“Yes,” said Raven. “That’d be great.”

A sneaky grin slowly crept over his face. “Okay, then.” He extended his hand to her, before quickly redrawing that one in exchange for the other when he realized that he had been offering Raven a shoe. “I’m Wick. Well, Kyle, but people call me Wick. Roomie’s name is Lincoln, but he’s asleep.”

Confused, Raven took the hand and shook it. “My name’s Raven.”

Wick abruptly reached for the door and smiled. “So, I have to go. Hope you can get back to sleep!”

And just like that, Raven was standing in front of a closed door. She scoffed at the air left in Wick’s wake. “Asshole,” she muttered. “Didn’t even apologize.”

* * *

 Raven woke up the next morning ready to claw someone’s eyes out – specifically, Wick’s. She should have known that it was all too easy for Wick to just concede her request, not with that shit-eating grin he had the previous morning. So, naturally, she was staring at her ceiling and listening to the same fifty-second song (yes, she counted) over and over.

_That’s So Raven! It’s the future I can see. That’s So Raven! It’s so mysterious to me…_

Suddenly, she pounded her fists into her bed and forced herself to get up. “I’m going to _kill_ him,” she repeated to herself as she slammed her apartment door and flew downstairs. She found Wick’s door and slapped it with her open palms. “Hey! Open up! Don’t even pretend that you’re sleeping right now because I will find a way in there!”

The door opened swiftly and revealed Wick, perfectly dressed, smiling like he had just won the fucking lottery, and holding two cups of coffee. “You rang?” he asked facetiously in a dreadful British accent.

“ _That’s So Raven_? Really? Like no one in my life has ever made fun of me with that before; you’re quite original.” Wick’s grin didn’t falter. He responded by holding out one of the cups of coffee. Raven snarled a bit (much to Wick’s amusement), but she took the mug. “I thought I asked you to turn your alarm down,” she continued, leaning against the wall.

“Ah, but you didn’t.” Wick took a sip from his coffee. “All you said was that I had to change it.”

Raven opened her mouth to reply, but realized that he was right. Wick was relishing in her look of defeat, which made the cogs in her brain angrily turn faster. And then, her mental light bulb lit. She smiled in a way that would scare most people, and took a long gulp out of her cup. She handed it back to Wick with a polite thank you before going to her room.

She needed time to set her plan into motion.

* * *

 Raven gleefully ignored the thumping at her door the next morning. She checked her phone. 3:37AM. No doubt Wick didn’t like being woken up an hour earlier than usual by what was arguably the most annoying song on the planet. Even from her bed, she could still make out a few of the lyrics.

_This is the song that doesn’t end! Yes, it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesn’t end…_

Of course, the tortuous Lamb chops Play-Along tune was being muffled by several pillows stuffed into the ventilation shaft that Raven discovered connected her room and Wick’s. All she had to do was rig her alarm to play that on repeat for at least twenty minutes with some better speakers to project the sound directly into the apartment below. She chuckled at the simplicity of her revenge, then snuggled up to go back to sleep. Raven barely heard Wick yelling about how this should be considered capital punishment, that he was too young to die, that he didn’t have time to –

And that’s when, she supposed, Wick found the white paper bag outside the door. The bag with homemade blueberry muffins and a note that said, “This is war. Have a good breakfast. Raven.”

* * *

After another week of battling wake-up calls that ranged from Halloween-type monster sounds to dirty versions of Disney songs, Wick asked Raven to breakfast.

“You know, real breakfast,” he explained from his door when Raven came down to tell him to turn off the fucking Imperial March because Jesus Christ, it was driving her up the wall. “So we can sit down and have a full meal and not awkwardly stand in each other’s doorways.”

Raven considered the proposal, chewing thoughtfully on the croissant Wick had given her. “What makes you think I’m going to get up to have breakfast with you at such an ungodly hour?” she asked finally.

Wick just gave Raven a smile that made her chest tighten. “How about that twenty-four-hour diner down the road? Say, three-thirty?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Raven giggled all the way back upstairs.

* * *

 Later, Raven would get nervous about trusting someone again. She and Wick have their arguments, but they always try to resolve them by playing weird, obscure (and often shitty) songs that conveyed their feelings through the ventilation shaft. Not long after, Raven tells Wick about Finn, about her mother, and everything that could possibly drive someone away. Wick tells her that he doesn’t mind – but also, if he ever finds Finn he’s going to hand him his ass on a platter.

He tells her he loves her first, and she doesn’t respond right away. He understands why.

They move in together not long after that.


	2. Crossed in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy x Clarke's prompt: "my neighbor's sister got the wrong house number and barged into my apartment AU"

“Bellamy Blake, I’m going to kick your ass!”

Clarke looked up from her small couch. Could she ever catch a break and watch her British murder mysteries in peace? And whoever this Bellamy was, he was going to get an earful in the hallway.

“Come on, Bellamy!” The voice was closer now, as if it was just outside Clarke’s door. Before Clarke remembered that she had forgotten to lock the door, a woman entered the apartment like a whirlwind. She had delicate features, with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Not that Clarke would ever underestimate her when it came to fighting someone off, because she looked as if she was going to do that now. Clarke stood instinctively, and the young woman looked Clarke up and down. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarke responded calmly.

The girl snorted. “Yeah, okay. Now he’s got his girlfriends lying for him. Terrific.”

Clarke put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know who Bellamy is, I’m not his girlfriend, and you’re in my apartment right now.”

“Oh,” the woman said, looking at the pictures that hung on the wall next to her. They were of Clarke and her parents, and of her old friends like Wells. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought – I’m Octavia, Bellamy’s sister. I – I live downstairs and my asshat of a brother decided to move in to my apartment building without telling me. I thought this was his room,” she finished sheepishly.

Clarke waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not a problem. I’m pretty sure your brother moved in next door with my friend Jasper,” she said, leading Octavia back into the hall. “So, you were close enough, I guess,” Clarke laughed.

Octavia returned as small smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he – ”

“Octavia?” a man’s voice bellowed from down the hall. Both women turned to see the source of the sound. Clarke saw a man a few years older than herself, with hair and face that matched Octavia’s in a familial way. Clarke assumed that this was Bellamy. He was holding a lamp in one arm and a box of books under the other like they weighed nothing. This did not deter Octavia from running up to him and punching him a few times in the arm. “Ow! What the hell, O?” Bellamy said, though his smile betrayed a fondness for his little sister. Octavia gave his arm one last hit, causing the box of books to scatter on the hallway floor. Bellamy threw up his hands, one still clutching the lamp, as if he had no responsibility in the mess.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were moving to ARK Apartments! A text would have been nice, Bell.” Octavia moved in front of him to prevent him picking up his books and avoiding her. Clarke quietly decided to help put the books back. Neither of the Blakes noticed.

After trying to move around his sister a few times, Bellamy sighed. “Fine! I didn’t tell you I was moving in.”

“Why not?” Octavia looked hurt.

Bellamy groaned. “Because this apartment is convenient geographically and financially, and,” he paused, running his hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was moving here to keep an eye on you.”

Clarke stopped picking up the books and looked between the siblings. Their tension was tangible enough to be cut with a knife. Thinking it best to finish what she started and go back to her room, Clarke returned to her task. All of Bellamy’s books were old and fragile, their spines and covers worn from use and their pages yellow. They even had that slightly musky scent of attics and libraries and wherever else these books were kept before Bellamy came into possession of them. As Clarke glanced at the titles, they all seemed to be on the same topic: mythology. He had the classics, like ancient Greek and Roman gods’ mythology, _The_ _Iliad_ and _The Odyssey_ , but also some that Clarke was not as familiar with. There were volumes on Norse gods, Egyptian mythos, _The Story of Siegfried_ , Grimm’s fairytales, _The Canterbury Tales_ , and even a few of Shakespeare’s plays that covered ancient Rome. Clarke scolded herself for assuming that Bellamy wasn’t well read based on his jock-ish and muscular appearance. Appearances can be deceiving, as she had learned with Finn.

“Are you here to keep an eye on me?” Octavia countered after an interval.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Right, because that worked out so well last time."

This answer seemed to satisfy Octavia, whose expression immediately changed from one of anger to one of euphoria. “Well, let me help you bring some your stuff in!” She turned to the floor, expecting to pick up the books, but instead saw Clarke, holding out the box to her, all books put back in their place.

Bellamy’s eyes widened and snatched the box out of Clarke’s hands. “Hey! Don’t you know it’s rude to touch other people’s things, princess?”

Octavia gasped and gave him an admonishing slap on the arm. “Don’t be such a douchebag, Bellamy! She didn’t know! Jesus.” She turned to thank Clarke for her help, but just saw the apartment door close behind her.

Clarke locked her door and collapsed onto her couch. She hadn’t missed too much of her show, but her mind started to wander. Clarke couldn’t help feeling hurt by Bellamy’s words. She was only trying to help, and usually people just accepted it. She decided miserably that she couldn’t spontaneously hang out with Jasper anymore. His roommate was an attractive, extremely literate, protective dick.

* * *

The knock on her door came as a surprise. Clarke never really had guests over besides Jasper and sometimes Raven, and usually they just barged right in, like Octavia had done two days before. Clarke hadn’t ordered take out, and her mom wouldn’t have the nerve to come and visit her, so she approached her door with trepidation. She had to look through the peephole at least three times before registering that yes, Bellamy Blake was standing outside her door, looking as pissed off as he had been their first encounter.

Bellamy knocked again and Clarke slowly unlocked her door. She only opened it wide enough so that he could see her face. Bellamy stared down at her but Clarke glared just as much back, until finally she understood that he was not going to be the initiator of conversation. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Bellamy’s hands squirmed in his pockets, but his gaze was steady. “I, uh,” Bellamy cleared his throat, “I’ve been informed that I was rude to you the other day, and I’ve been told that I should apologize.” He put some emphasis on “told” as if he should have chosen the word “ordered,” probably by Octavia.

Clarke straightened her frame. “But you don’t want to.” It wasn’t a question, and the way Bellamy’s eyes snapped down from their spot on the ceiling indicated that he knew that.

“Not really,” Bellamy retorted. “Those books are special to me. My mom gave them to me when I was a kid. So, yeah, I got a little defensive.”

Putting one hand on her hip, Clarke opened the door wider. “That doesn’t mean you had to be a jerk,” she snapped. “I was just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.”

Clarke scoffed and slammed the door in his face.

* * *

“So, I hear you’re becoming fast friends with my roommate,” Jasper announced that Saturday afternoon, letting himself into Clarke’s apartment. He walked into the open kitchen and deposited his various snacks over the countertop.

Clarke emerged from the bathroom, still wearing her pajamas. “Yeah, he’s a real sweetheart,” she quipped. “We’re thinking of making friendship bracelets one day.”

Jasper chuckled and shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. “He’s actually not so bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him.”

“Suit yourself,” Jasper conceded, plopping down on her couch and pulling up Netflix. “What romantic comedy should we watch today?”

Clarke hummed, thinking of different genres as she set up some bowls for popcorn. “Shall we be _really_ adventurous and try to find one that’s good?”

“Hey, I’m ready for anything.”

They watched _Much Ado About Nothing_ , directed by Joss Whedon, despite Jasper’s insistence that he wouldn’t know what was going on because nobody spoke that way anymore. Clarke held a pillow to her chest and stage whispered through the whole movie because this is her favorite Shakespeare play (“Beatrice is the most well-written female character by Shakespeare, Jasper! Lady Macbeth has nothing on her,” and “This version is okay, but I like the Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branagh adaptation the best”). When it was over, they sat in a comfortable silence until Jasper started laughing uproariously.

“What?” asked Clark, amused.

“Nah, I was just thinking of who Beatrice and Benedick remind me of.”

Clarke grabbed her pillow. “Don’t you say it, Jasper Jordan – ”

“You and Bellamy!” Jasper finished, laughing some more. Clarke failed to shut him up, even after an exhausting, apartment-wide pillow fight.

* * *

The next time Clarke saw Bellamy was weeks later, when he showed up on her doorstep with another annoyed look. She opened after his second knock. “I think I must be having Déjà vu,” she said with a sarcastic smile.

“Can I come in?” he asked abruptly, and for a moment Clarke had to stop to comprehend the question.

“Why?”

Bellamy groaned, and pointed to his apartment door. Clarke obligingly stuck her head out to look and found one of Jasper’s signature scarfs around the doorknob. “He’s busy,” Bellamy continued, “and I don’t want to go down to Octavia’s. She’ll think I was pulling a protective-older-brother thing.”

“You? Never,” said Clarke, putting a hand over her chest.

“Look, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need to go to the bathroom really bad and put my groceries somewhere that’s refrigerated. You gonna let me in or not?”

Clarke took in Bellamy’s defeated expression and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, you can come in. But only if you apologize for being a dick.”

Bellamy glared daggers at her, but his bladder won over his pride. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you. Happy now, princess?” Clarke ignored that last comment and opened the door, yelling out directions to the bathroom as he sprinted to the kitchen first. When he returned, Bellamy found his perishable food in Clarke’s fridge and Clarke huddled under a blanket in front of her television.

“What are we watching, Clarke?” he asked. Clarke looked at him quizzically. “Octavia told me your name, which she learned from her roommate, Raven.” A flash of discomfort washed across Clarke’s face, but she nodded. “Speaking of which, where’s your roommate?”

“At work, probably. Lexa has all sorts of weird hours.” What Clarke did not mention was that she and Lexa used to date, but now they weren’t and it was uncomfortable to live with her. They were just both waiting it out until other living arrangements came along. To make up for the awkwardness of the situation, Lexa worked all the time and Clarke studied like a fiend in her room. “And we’re watching the 1995 version of _Pride and Prejudice_ , if that’s okay.”

“Of course. That’s the best one,” Bellamy replied easily, leaning back into the couch. “Extremely accurate to the book.”

Clarke whipped her head to look at him. “You’ve read _Pride and Prejudice_?”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

“Of course I have! It’s one of my favorite books!” cried Clarke defensively. “I just didn’t take you to be a Jane Austen fan.”

“I didn’t take you to be a pre-med student,” Bellamy shot back. “I saw your textbooks in the hall, and isn’t a pre-med student supposed to be, I don’t know, more caring and considerate?”

Clarke laughed at this. “If I didn’t care, your ass would be in the hall or with Octavia right now.”

“This is true.”

They finished watching the first few episodes, each enjoying the other’s impressions of Mrs. Bennet’s hysterics. When, at last, he heard someone leave from his apartment, Bellamy gathered his groceries and met Clarke at the door. “Good night, princess,” he said, smiling genuinely, and his stomach dropped a bit when Clarke smiled back.

* * *

They found refuge in each other’s apartments after that for months, and perhaps they would have gotten together sooner, if Octavia hadn’t told everyone that it was destiny for the two to be together. Clarke and Bellamy were so stubborn that they held off admitting their feelings for as long as possible. Even after Clarke told Bellamy about how her mother had turned her father in for a crime he didn’t commit, or after Bellamy told Clarke about his mother’s death and raising Octavia by himself, they didn’t profess their feelings. They didn’t try until Bellamy and Clarke were watching _Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries_ , an obscure show that they didn’t think anyone else knew until they stumbled upon it in conversation. Suddenly, Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s shirt and pulled him to her, their lips colliding and Bellamy too stunned to do anything.

“I like you,” Clarke stated when the kiss was broken, looking deep into Bellamy’s eyes. “Fuck what Octavia says; I liked you before she started saying that stuff about us. You wanna do this?”

Leave it to Clarke to make something so demanding sound oddly romantic. Bellamy’s face lit up in a smile and answered Clarke’s question with another kiss.

They officially became a couple when Jasper went to Monty’s room the next day after he found one of his scarves on the apartment doorknob.


	3. All Creatures Great and Small

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln x Octavia's prompt: "I went to investigate a scream and found my neighbor standing on a chair to avoid a rat/cockroach/snake AU"

If Octavia hadn’t felt completely ridiculous in her situation, she supposed that calling Raven would have been the most logical thing to do. Instead, she was trapped on top of a chair in her apartment kitchen, her heart beating rapidly as she stared at the floor. Half of Octavia’s brain was admonishing the fearful half, saying that it was only rat, that it was probably more afraid of her than she was of it, but she couldn’t help but see malice in its beady black eyes and the way it flicked its tail when it looked at her.

As it took small, padded steps around the kitchen, Octavia watched the rat’s every movement. For a brief minute, it seemed to give up its search for food and went back to its hole. Octavia made a mental note to get Raven to patch up that hole with some of her spare gadgets; maybe that would dissuade any more visitors. Suddenly, the rat turned and made a beeline towards Octavia’s chair.

Startled, Octavia screeched. “Holy shit!” she continued, searching for the rodent around her feet. Her stomach dropped when she didn’t see anything. “Oh, my God, where is it?!”

A knock interrupted her panic. “Excuse me,” said a deep voice through the door, “I was just passing and heard someone cry out. Is everything okay in there? Hello?”

Octavia prayed that the rat wouldn’t follow her and leapt from her chair. She quickly ran to the door and opened it. For a moment, she and her visitor just stared at each other. Octavia recognized him as one of her neighbors. She often saw him coming back in from a run, his dark skin glistening and muscles more visible through the sweat of his shirt. In her humble opinion, there was no word in the English language to describe how mysteriously attractive he was.

And there he was, standing in front of her.

“Hey there,” Octavia said lamely, flashing him an apologetic smile. “Sorry for alarming you. I was just startled.” He gave her a questioning look. “This is going to sound really stupid – I screamed because there’s a rat in my kitchen.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Don’t apologize. Did you trap it?”

“Not really,” Octavia admitted. “I actually don’t know where it is.”

“Would you like me to take care of it for you? If I’m not intruding, that is,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck.

Octavia considered the offer. She knew that she shouldn’t because she didn’t know who he was; hadn’t Bellamy told her that at least a million times? Then again, she certainly didn’t have the guts to get the rat herself. “Alright,” Octavia agreed, gesturing for him to come in. “I’m Octavia, by the way.”

“My name’s Lincoln,” he said upon entering. Taking in the décor of the living room – in particular, Raven’s half that displayed various sci-fi collectables and posters – Lincoln’s eyes flashed with recognition. “You’re the roommate of my roommate’s girlfriend,” he realized.

Octavia quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Is your roommate the guy Raven can’t stop talking about? The one who, she says, loves the original series of Star Trek _almost_ as much as she does?”

“That would be Wick.”

Octavia giggled. “They make quite a pair, those two.”

Lincoln nodded and wandered into the kitchen. He chuckled when he saw the overturned chair. “Was this your first line of defense?”

“Shut up!” Octavia replied, feigning annoyance. “It looked at me funny and I got scared.”

“Okay,” Lincoln said, shaking his head. He made quick work of finding the rat, which was hiding in a cupboard. Lincoln claimed that he tracked down its hiding spot from, “the way the cupboard door was slightly ajar.” Octavia smirked and decided not to point out that they heard a squeak coming from that direction only two minutes before. Grabbing the rat by its tail, Lincoln left to put the creature outside. Octavia thanked him profusely when he returned, offering him money or something to eat, which he adamantly refused.

“I’ve seen you before, you know,” he interjected abruptly. “Coming in and out of the building.” He avoided her gaze.

The tension in the room built up until Octavia eased it by saying, “I’ve noticed you, too.”

Lincoln, as majestic as he was, suddenly forgot how to walk upon hearing this, and stumbled into a small table in the room where a vase of lilies sat. He managed to catch the vase, but some of the flowers and water splashed onto the living room carpet. “Oh, fuck! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Octavia laughed. She picked up some lilies and placed them on the kitchen counter. After returning with a roll of paper towels, she discovered that Lincoln and one of the lilies had disappeared.

* * *

 “Hey, O?” Raven called out, throwing her keys in the general direction of the couch. “What the fuck kind of mail are you getting?”

Octavia rolled her eyes and joined Raven in the living room. “What are you talking about?”

“It was just sitting in front of the door.” Without looking up from her own letters, Raven pointed to the object in question on the small coffee table.

At first, Octavia thought that it must have been a practical joke. The lily that lay before her couldn’t have been from… he had just left a few weeks back. No explanation, no words; she hadn’t even seen Lincoln going on runs. She carefully lifted it up and found a note attached. “Sorry I left so suddenly. I didn’t know if you had a boyfriend. If you’re still interested, meet me on the roof at eight. Lincoln.”

“Who’s it from?” Raven asked casually.

Octavia took a breath. “Your boyfriend’s roommate.”

Raven snapped her gaze towards Octavia. “Lincoln? Seriously?” She squealed and stood, letting the forgotten mail tumble off her lap in a messy pile on the floor. “O, that’s so great! Lincoln’s a sweetheart.”

“We’ve only met once!” Octavia protested. “Now, he wants to meet me on the roof at eight.” She offered the lily to Raven as evidence, and she made quick work of examining the card.

“How secretive! Do you want to go?”

“Maybe?” Octavia sighed and crumpled into the couch. “I just feel apprehensive for some reason.”

Raven crossed her arms. “Does this have anything to do with your overly-protective big brother upstairs?”

“That’s part of it. I’ve also never had a healthy, normal relationship.” Octavia groaned. “And I want one.”

Reaching out one of her arms across Octavia’s shoulders to comfort her, Raven chuckled. “Lincoln’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. Trust me. You should go.”

This time, Octavia’s anxious half – the half that surrendered to fear – lost.

* * *

 Standing in front of the elevator doors, Lincoln nervously fiddled with his tie, and Octavia swat away his hands, again. “Will you stop fussing? You look great.”

“I feel like I’m having dinner with ‘the parents,’ except this is Bellamy, your scary older brother who’ll kill me before I sit down at the table.”

Octavia snorted and pressed the floor button. “Clarke wouldn’t let him do that.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t try to stop him?” Lincoln asked, amused.

“I’ve known Bell long enough to know that my interference usually makes it worse for the person I bring home. Don’t worry; Clarke doesn’t have the same rules. She’ll make sure he’s well-behaved.”

Lincoln tried to take solace in that as he felt the elevator move beneath his feet. “And Wick and Raven are coming?”

“Duh,” Octavia replied. “They’ll make the party more interesting.”

They stepped out of the elevator hand in hand and walked towards Bellamy’s apartment. Lincoln steeled himself and knocked. Almost immediately, Bellamy opened the door with a smile. Lincoln couldn’t discern whether it was fake or not. Wick and Raven had already arrived, debating with Clarke about which Star Wars movie with the best (“How can you _possibly_ think that The Phantom Menace is better than – ” “Listen, I can like whichever I want to, Wick – ” “Not if you’re _wrong_ , Clarke!” “Seriously, Raven?”).

After the initial awkward conversation, Lincoln found some common ground with almost everyone at the table. He and Clarke discussed art and sketching techniques. With Raven, he swapped embarrassing Wick stories, much to Wick’s despair. Bellamy began with a few passive aggressive comments about his little sister’s future, all of which earned him a hard kick under the table and a death glare from Clarke. However, seeing that Lincoln appeared genuine in his feelings and answered his questions with long-term answers, Bellamy backed off for the rest of the evening. This delighted Octavia to no end, whispering into Lincoln’s ear at one point, “If he didn’t like you, he’d be fist fighting you in the hall right now.” Lincoln smiled, thinking that that was the closest to a blessing he was ever going to get.

* * *

 After a few months, Bellamy and Lincoln reached an understanding that they both agreed on: no one was to hurt Octavia, ever. This lead to Octavia moving in with a man for the first time of her life, but she wasn’t worried. With Lincoln, she didn’t seem to be afraid of anything anymore. She was stronger.

Although, Lincoln still had to get rid of rats for her.


	4. Now is the Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monty x Jasper's prompt: "the apartment above me has left the tap on or something and water is LEAKING THROUGH MY CEILING WTF! AU"

When Jasper recalled the story later to his friends, he exaggerated slightly. He told Raven and Clarke (and Bellamy, when he and Clarke were finally a couple) that the leak in his ceiling was like something out of a horror movie, that it dripped at a slow, incomprehensible rate, that the liquid was dark, but most importantly, that it came out of nowhere.

Perhaps, “slight exaggeration” should be replaced with “blatant lie.”

Jasper first noticed the blemish on the ceiling above his shower a few weeks before. The ring, looking something like a coffee stain, seemed only to get darker as the days went by. Jasper would have called his landlord, Thelonious Wells, but after turning a blind eye to Jasper’s apartment moonshine operation “just this once,” he didn’t want to get into any more trouble. So, he prayed that the people above him would realize that they had a stain on their floor. They didn’t. After a few days, the stain began to leak, and Jasper – a pinnacle of patience and thinking things through – ran upstairs in a panic.

He frantically knocked, and from behind the door he heard water being shut off and footsteps towards him. The door opened, and Jasper’s mouth went dry. “Hey. You’re… here."

The man he spoke to seemed just as shocked to see Jasper, made worse from the fact that he was sopping wet and only wearing a towel. It took him a minute before letting out a whispered, “Jasper?”

“Hey, Monty, how are you?” Jasper smiled, but he was running purely on societal instinct while his mind was screaming at him. In any other situation, Jasper would have made his excuses and left, but he wanted to see Monty again.

And warn him about the leak in the ceiling. Obviously.

When he was fairly certain that Monty wasn’t going to answer him, Jasper avoided looking at Monty’s half naked body (not that he hadn’t seen it before it was just awkward; nobody want their ex giving them the up down when they’re in a towel), and cleared his throat. “Um, I live in the apartment below you.”

Monty stiffened a bit at this information. “Okay.”

“Your bathroom is causing a leak in my bathroom ceiling. I came up here to ask the neighbors if they could talk to Jaha about it.” Jasper rubbed his hands together nervously.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Monty replied, his face wincing more than smiling. “Hope you have a good day!”

Jasper knew before he shut the door that Monty didn’t mean that.

* * *

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Clarke demanded. After one too many drunk texts from Jasper, she came next door to check on him. She found the entire apartment in a state of disarray, Jasper draped loosely on a chair, and an empty bottle of beer in his hand.

“Clarke?” Jasper reached for her blurry shape in his doorway with his hand. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Making sure you don’t do something stupid,” came the curt reply as Jasper felt hands and arms help him up and into his room. “Come on, big fella,” Clarke coaxed, attempting to get Jasper into a pair of pajamas.

After finally allowing her to give him a t-shirt, Jasper sat miserably on the end of his bed. “Clarke, I fucked up.”

Clarke paid no notice of him and began cleaning the apartment. “You’re lucky you have me to do this sort of stuff for you until you get a new roommate!” she called from the living room. “God knows that Murphy would’ve never cleaned up after your shit.”

“Clarke!” Jasper repeated. “I fucked up. A lot.”

“Yeah, I heard you, buddy.” Clarke sighed and leaned against his bedroom doorway. “Tell me about it in the morning.”

That suddenly seemed like the greatest plan ever because Jasper could feel his eyelids become heavy, and he crawled into bed just before they closed. When they opened again, all of his senses ran high. The light from his windows was blinding, and his head pounded like there was a sledgehammer in his skull.

Jasper muttered something about this being the worst hangover ever before a glass of water materialized in front of him. No, not materialized. Jasper’s gaze groggily followed the arm that lead to –

“Good morning!” Clarke chirped, but in Jasper’s current condition it sounded more like a foghorn.

“So loud,” Jasper croaked, using his hands to shield his eyes.

Clarke chuckled. “Here, drink. When you don’t feel like death, you can tell me what caused you to drink yourself stupid last night.”

“Don’t wanna,” answered Jasper softly.

“Too bad.” Clarke got up and went into the kitchen. “Come and find me when you’re ready.”

Jasper groaned and laid on his back until the scent of scrambled eggs and pancakes drew him from the bed. Clarke’s cooking was certainly worth getting interrogated for. She set a steaming plate in front of him and patiently waited for him to explain himself.

“Thanks, Clarke,” said Jasper earnestly. “You didn’t have to do all of this.” She smiled. “And why I was drinking – well, that’s a really long story.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” she joked, resting her chin in her hand.

Jasper thought of how to correctly word his story while chewing on some pancakes. “There’s this guy I used to know, Monty, and now he’s living in the apartment above me.” Clarke’s eyes drifted to Jasper’s ceiling before nodding for him to continue. “We are, well,” Jasper laughed a little, “we _were_ best friends. We did everything together, ever since we were little. We had the same classes, same interests, did the same… recreational activities,” he said carefully.

Clarke laughed. “You both smoked pot?”

“Hey!” Jasper scoffed. “When you say it like that, it sounds incredibly ordinary. Anyway, he was my first boyfriend and my first… everything, really. We dated through high school and that was great, and then we decided to go to the same college. He wanted to do Computer Engineering, I wanted to do Chemical Engineering, and the school offered both. That was all probably a bad idea, in retrospect.”

Clarke folded her hands as if she knew where the conversation was going. “I’m assuming this is where you ‘fucked up’ a lot.”

Jasper nodded. “We grew apart at one point; can’t really remember when. I met this girl in my intro chemistry class, Maya. She was super nice, and we hit it off right away. Long story short, I cheated on Monty and he hasn’t spoken to me since I told him and it really sucks because now I may see him where I live.” He took a deep breath.

“Well,” said Clarke after a pause, “you certainly fucked up.”

“Thanks,” Jasper deadpanned. “Kind of figured out that part myself.”

“Look, I don’t know what else to say. Just try and avoid him, alright? There’s not a lot more you can do.” Clarke turned and left Jasper with that thought while she washed pans and dishes. He never wanted to leave his apartment again. He wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. He wanted to voice these assertions, but he knew that Clarke would only say something about how hiding wouldn’t solve anything, and he wasn’t going to take exams on his couch, and that he wasn’t going to lose his scholarships because of one stupid mistake.

Naturally, there was no way he would see Monty again, if he could help it.

* * *

Jasper practically sprinted to his apartment door and furiously struggled to open it. Once he had safely reached the other side of the door and locked it, he let out the breath that he had been holding. Some plan Clarke had given him! Avoiding Monty had become almost a full-time job. If Jasper saw Monty in the elevator, he’d take the stairs. If Monty came into the ARK apartments lobby, Jasper would quickly duck into the bathroom. Every time this happened (it had to be at least three or fours times a day), Monty would see him. He would see through Jasper’s bullshit evasion tactics because he’d known Jasper since he was five. But Monty looked at Jasper with something else, something that Jasper couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was a pleading look, a guilty look, and an expectant look all rolled into one. The combination appeared – at least to Jasper – that Monty wanted Jasper to join him in the elevator, or hold the door for him in the lobby. It seemed as though Monty was reaching out to him in the subtlest way possible.

But that couldn’t be right. Monty hated him. Hell, he would hate himself after what he had done. So, Jasper ignored Monty’s looks and seriously considered going to the gym; he wasn’t exactly built for running up and down the stairs.

* * *

As the weeks progressed, Jasper became accustomed to his new routine, and a certain kind of peace settled back into his apartment. With the arrival of his new roommate, Bellamy, and his subsequent move-in, the stress of his ex upstairs started to fade. Thelonious even patched up his bathroom ceiling.

That’s why, when Jasper was walking down his hall one Sunday afternoon, he didn’t even notice Monty standing in front of his door. Jasper was too concerned with getting his keys out of his pocket without dropping _all_ of his textbooks. After finally retrieving them through some sort of contortion that Jasper was sure he would never be able to replicate, Jasper looked up and was face to face with the person he had tried so hard to avoid.

“Hey,” Monty said with an almost too-easy deliberation.

Jasper floundered for a bit, questions like, “What are you doing here? How are you so calm?” and “Why don’t you hate me?” flittering through his mind like flies. He finally settled on, “What’re you doing here,” his voice sounding harsher than he felt.

Monty shrugged. “Just wondered if we could talk, that’s all. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Jasper couldn’t hide how confused he was. “What about?”

“You know what,” Monty stated. “We haven’t really talked since the night that you told me before you ran out of our dorm room.”

Before his mind could think up too many excuses as to why this was a horrible idea, Jasper went and unlocked the door. Monty waited outside until Jasper ushered him in. Jasper preoccupied himself with unloading his schoolwork while Monty uncomfortably found a place to sit in the living room. It hadn’t always been this way between the two of them, with an awkwardness associated with strangers, and Jasper wallowed in that thought bitterly.

“So,” Jasper said upon returning, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room from Monty. “What do you want to talk about?”

Monty straightened himself, but kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “You cheated on me.”

Suddenly, Jasper felt his face flush red with anger. “Is that what you came here to say? I know I cheated on you, Monty! God, I apologized and apologized to you, what more do you want me to – ”

“I cheated on you, too.”

Jasper forgot how to breathe properly, and just let the statement stew in his mind. Monty fidgeted nervously. “W-What?” Jasper stuttered out after a while. “You cheated on me?”

“At the same time you cheated on me with Maya. Convenient, isn’t it?” Monty let out a short and hollow laugh.

“With who?” Jasper blurted. “Am I allowed to ask that?”

Monty nodded. “His name’s Nathan Miller. He was in my graphic design class and we – ”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Jasper, outraged.

“You didn’t give me a chance to! You ran out before I could say anything, and when I got back from my classes the next day, your stuff was gone!”

“You could’ve texted or something.”

“And say what?” Monty inquired with a sour expression. “’Hey Jasper, you said that we’ve been distant lately, and you’re right, it’s because we’re both cheating assholes!’ Jesus. I never thought I’d see you again,” he added quietly.

Jasper became still. “I missed you,” he whispered, though he was unsure if Monty could hear him.

Before Jasper knew what was happening, Monty – who must have crossed the room with lightening speed – grabbed Jasper’s face. Their kiss was harsh, apologetic, and oddly familiar at the same time. When they broke, Jasper gasped for air and laughed. “We are so fucked up.”

* * *

Bellamy returned that evening with groceries, and was pissed to find Jasper’s scarf hanging on the doorknob.

“Better not be his stupid ex,” he muttered to himself before considering his options and reluctantly walking to Clarke’s door.

* * *

When Clarke found out just who it was Jasper had a sleepover with the night before, she marched over to Jasper’s apartment and demanded that he and Monty actually talk about all the things that they had done. “Make up sex isn’t enough,” she snapped authoritatively before leaving the room.

“I like her,” Monty said. “And she’s right.” Jasper agreed.

* * *

It was a few months before they could really get back to how they were – no. They agreed that they couldn’t be how they were ever again, and that they should start over. Of course, whenever they argued, one of them always pulled the “you cheated on me card” at one point, and that was painful for both, but they were more open with each other.

Their friend group finally accepted Monty and Jasper’s bizarre relationship when they brought the best moonshine to the Christmas party. They made it in Monty’s apartment, so Jasper wouldn’t get in trouble with Thelonious.

“I’m glad,” Monty slurred after too much moonshine.

Jasper chuckled. “Glad about what?”

“That I take really long showers; we wouldn’t have gotten back together if you hadn’t freaked out!”

“I did not freak out!” Jasper retaliated by playfully shoving Monty. The force was too much for both of them in the state they were in, and they both toppled on top of each other in a fit of giggles.

“Love you,” Monty said quietly. “Always have.”

Jasper smiled. “Love you, too.”

Jasper always made sure to mention that moment when he told his story, because that was the moment he knew that he and Monty would never leave each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, those are all the prompts I had to establish these guys as couples! Feel free to comment or message me on tumblr (same username: sicktodeathoflogic) with any prompts I should do now that they're all dating.


	5. We Still Do

“Hey, Raven? Raven? Wake up.”

Raven forced her eyes open, something that led to physical pain. She registered Wick’s presence crouched near their bed and that it was unbelievably early, but she refused to allow these things to rouse her too much. This had been the longest week of her life. What with finals and extra shifts at the auto shop, she barely had energy to crawl into bed a few hours before. She was too tired even to groan and scold Wick for waking her, for her usual early alertness was long gone. All she could manage was an exhausted and wary, “What?”

Wick’s eyes were apologetic, but he wasn’t deterred. “Get up,” he insisted. “It’s the nineteenth.” Raven rubbed her eyes and made a few questioning grunts. “Our anniversary?” Wick offered.

Raven lifted her head and blearily peered at the alarm clock. “Fuck. It’s five AM.”

“It’s also our three-year anniversary.”

“Not until I wake up, it isn’t,” Raven grumbled, burying her face back into her pillow. “Come on, Kyle, I’m exhausted.”

“Please get up?” Wick reached over and rubbed small circles on Raven’s back – to weaken her resistance, he thought, but it only seemed to lure her back to sleep. “I planned something nice at the diner.”

Raven stirred and turned to her boyfriend. Wick was thoughtful and affectionate, but he wasn’t into huge romantic gestures. It was something she appreciated after Finn, whose tokens and gifts felt special at the time, but Raven realized in reflection that they were only given to fill a hole in their relationship that shouldn’t have been there. As for Wick, if he had bothered to plan something, she felt compelled to indulge him.

“Alright,” Raven conceded, rolling out of bed and groggily reaching for some clothes. Wick perked up instantly and left to get ready himself. “You better be ready to carry me there, though!” Raven called into the next room. She heard him chuckle in response.

* * *

 Stimulated with coffee and enough grease to lubricate the engines she was paid to fix, Raven scrutinized Wick’s expressions from across their booth in the diner. They hadn’t spoken much besides ordering and paying for their usual meals, for Raven was anticipating the “special” part of the breakfast. Wick knew this, but smiled contentedly at Raven’s expression. She looked beautiful, staring up at him from behind her mug with her big brown eyes, like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

Raven paused for a moment before nonchalantly putting her mug down and slouching against the booth. “Nothing much, just how unfair it is that my boyfriend can look flawless at five-thirty in the morning.”

Her tone of voice masked her compliment from being taken too seriously, but Wick grinned nonetheless. “Love you too,” he joked, and Raven laughed. Seeing her laughter, genuine and bright, made a lump form in his throat. Wick had told himself that he was ready, that today would be the day. He instinctively searched his pocket for the small box he had purchased a month ago, with Lincoln and Bellamy’s help, and squeezed it for reassurance. He wanted this, and as much doubt accumulated in his mind from nervousness, he told himself that he better just do it, goddamn it. This was it.

“And that’s the point, isn’t it?” Wick started. “That I love you, I mean,” he clarified after seeing Raven’s bewildered expression. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Wick hadn’t really thought out what he was going to say because he reasoned that it would be better if it formed in the moment. He completely regretted that idea, but continued before Raven could ask him if he was high or something. “Raven, I love you so much. Do you know that? I think I’ve loved you since the day you stormed down stairs to tell me off.

You’re so smart, Raven – one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and one of the few who has the balls to tell me I’m wrong. You’re beautiful, put up with me, and – ” Wick stopped. He had no idea where he was going with this. “I realized a while ago that I can’t _not_ have you in my life. You – you make everything right, Raven. So this is me, asking you to spend the rest of your life with me.” Wick had pulled the box out at some point during his short speech and placed it on the table between them. He could feel blood thundering in his ears, and his mind deliberated whether or not to give a final corny line to his speech, like, “Be my wife for life,” or “What’dya say?”

The few seconds Raven sat, dumbstruck and gazing at the box on the table, felt like hours to Wick. He succumbed to his rapid heartbeat and nervous sweating by barely whispering, “Please, say something.”

Suddenly, Raven’s eyes snapped to his, and a smile erupted over her features. She got up – far too quickly for someone who had only woken up forty minutes before – and rushed around the table to tackle Wick into the booth bench. She hugged him so tightly he thought for sure there would be evidence of a few broken ribs, but he didn’t care. She was laughing and smiling and peppering his face in kisses, and only stopped when Wick pulled her off of him. “Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes, you goof! Yes!” Raven cried before lunging for Wick again, both smiling into another kiss. “Can I see the ring?” she asked after a few minutes, slightly breathless. Wick had only the capacity to nod at that point, so overwhelmed by emotions and Raven and his genuine relief that _she said yes._ And so… enthusiastically.

Wick grabbed the box and opened it, a simple gold band fixed inside. “Do you like it?”

Raven nodded vehemently and held out her hand for Wick to place it on her finger. She and Wick looked at if for a long time, thinking that it somehow completed her, like her hand had been naked without it. She leaned over to Wick’s ear and whispered, “I love you, too.”

Wick smiled and his ears turned a bit red. He turned even redder when Raven breathily reminded him that it was barely morning on their anniversary and they had all weekend to themselves.

Without preamble, Wick grabbed Raven from the booth and scooped her up in his arms. “Kyle!” she screamed. “What are you doing?”

“You said I had to carry you,” Wick replied mischievously. They left the diner in a whirlwind of whistles and shouts of approval from the other early morning patrons and workers. Raven covered her face, mortified, and kept muttering harshly for Wick to put her down before she killed him herself. Wick laughed away her embarrassment. “Hey, I’m practicing,” he said. “Aren’t I supposed to carry you across the threshold or something?”

Raven didn’t argue; she wanted the day to just be her and Wick. Tomorrow, she’d tell her friends.

Wick practically kicked the door to their bedroom down after faltering miserably for keys at the front door, and wasted no time in throwing his fiancée onto the bed and undressing himself.

Maybe Raven would tell them the day after tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is my last chapter for this story, unless I make it part of a series. I'm currently writing several AUs for a few fandoms, but I may do another one for The 100 soon! Thanks for all the support!


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